Chapter 11
Eleven
Iused my hand to block the sun from hurting my eyes when it reflected in the lake.
Around me hundreds of karls did the same as we waited for the king’s men to give us instructions.
A yawn crept up on me, but for once I was grateful for the tiredness.
I’d been up all night after Rakkel’s warning, and if I hadn’t, I would have missed the initiates spilling out of the longhouse, ready in their fighting gear at the sun’s first rays.
“You look about as excited as I feel.” Rakkel sidled up to me, her long brown hair fastened into a thick braid with a leather band holding it all together, a bone-white bow secured across her chest.
I gave her a look from under my lashes that made her laugh.
“Glad you took my warning seriously,” she said. “There were groups out searching for you all night.”
I know. I’d been forced to sneak from tree to tree to avoid them.
But I didn’t say that as Viljan came to my side, quietly facing the forest surrounding the western part of the lake. We hadn’t spoken since I ordered him away yesterday, and the strain between us chafed like new leathers.
I twisted a strand of my hair when Rakkel turned from Viljan to me, her brows raised.
To stay awake in the early hours before dawn, I’d taken time to secure my crimson mane, keeping it from my face with several small braids fastened at the back with a bone comb while letting the rest flow free in the breeze.
My tired eyes were lined with kohl, and I’d even debated whether to use the battle paint representing my people but had ended up opting not to. I didn’t want to give anyone the idea I was looking for more trouble.
“There they are,” Rakkel mumbled before turning to me, lowering her voice. “Looking as frightening as usual.”
Caution pulled at my shoulders, and I straightened when Darcke and his men emerged from the tree line, their coal-smeared features, equally dark leathers, and fur-lined shoulders stark against the sun rising behind them.
“Would it kill them to smile?” I whispered.
“Probably,” Rakkel replied through her teeth. “Or perhaps it would be our lives that hung in the balance. I have a feeling Darcke’s smile is even more dangerous than his scowl.”
I nodded to Ottoh standing to the side with Adrion. “Maybe we can trick him into trying it out?”
Rakkel snorted, and even her guard posted behind her turned his head down.
“Does Fritiof Sweengard know his legacy rests in the hands of a witless gossip?”
My chin flew up at the raspy voice filled with equal parts warning and disdain.
Rakkel gave me a wide-eyed stare, and I swallowed hard before facing the man who’d spoken, nausea building in my gut at the look of outright disgust in his eyes.
Silver braids fell down a chest that wasn’t broad from battle and training anymore but from overindulgence and a life gorging on boar and ale, and the male’s pale eyes held nothing but viciousness. Guner Krigstad, the king’s second, towered over me, hatred marring his features.
Guner had been a karl when our king was growing up, but they’d been best friends, and when King Gustief’s father died, Guner was declared the royal second, brought home from years of battle and conquest on the front lines.
The position of royal second didn’t exist before Gustief invented it, and Guner had done everything in his power to solidify his place. It was rumored he’d killed men and women before—even jarls—to ensure they wouldn’t risk his seat by the king’s side.
He ran the summer trials and the Hird, and Guner was as ruthless as he was shrewd. Because he was one of the king’s men, he had access to all five runes, but he used them to gain favors instead of bettering our nation. The king didn’t seem to mind, though.
The power radiating off Guner wasn’t as intense as the king’s, but it was impossible to miss. I rolled my shoulder when the magic flitted over my skin in both a warning and a show.
“I guess I should have known after your theatrics all week,” Guner continued, and some of the warriors behind him snickered.
“Walking into the Hird in the dress of our enemies? Refusing to fight your karls? Drawing such immense attention to yourself? Poor Fritiof. I thought he’d been unlucky with Lika, but you’re equally useless, aren’t you?
Lika at least had the decency not to show up to training yawning, even if he was a disappointment all the same. ”
His words hurt exactly where he’d intended, and I bit my cheek not to let it show.
Guner was known for his ruthless methods of tempering men and women. He didn’t teach; he hammered. Especially the heirs. He hated every legacy he was forced to train because he’d always wanted to become one. Instead, he’d always be the king’s hand but never his equal.
“I guess Lika didn’t show up at all in the end,” Guner continued. “Was it too much for the pampered boy? Your father always went too easy on him. Fooling around with women and blindly following his peers… Lika was never a leader.” He looked me up and down. “And neither are you.”
I didn’t care what he said about me. The whispers haunting me all week made his words run off me like cold drops of water down a cup.
But dragging Lika’s name like this?
Viljan let out a short warning breath when I lifted my chin further.
“No, second,” I replied quietly. “I’m no gossip, and my brother is a great Viking.”
My father would have scolded me for my tone.
He didn’t want us to use our rank, as daughters and sons to a chieftain, as leverage, but always cautioned us to keep mentions of hierarchy to ourselves because we held so much power over others.
But this man was trying to intimidate me, and I could allow that as much as I could the karls threatening me.
Someone behind Guner expelled a sharp breath. My eyes narrowed on Darcke.
Then my head flew to the side and pain exploded across my cheek, the taste of iron filling my mouth.
“So you think you don’t have to fight karls?” the king’s second spat.
I didn’t have time to react before Guner punched me again.
My nose took the brunt of it this time, and while blood began spurting, I didn’t hear a crunching sound as I tried to get my body to collaborate with my foggy mind.
The third strike gave me time to turn my head, but the force of it made me fly backward, landing me on the grass.
I blinked hard when a snarl ripped through the darkness flickering before my eyes.
Five of the warriors who’d stood behind Guner had Viljan by his arms and were dragging him backward.
Rakkel’s guard had moved to stand before her, but as he tried to block the female heir from approaching me, he, too, was surrounded by the king’s men and forced back.
Rakkel started toward us when Guner raised a hand. “Don’t even think about it, heir. Not unless you want your family to pay for your disobedience.” His grin was manic. “I heard your brother isn’t doing too well…”
The girl paled so fast her skin mirrored the white fur lining the edges of her tunic and trousers.
But disobedience?
As if what either of us had done was anything other than our normal customs?
I let out a dry laugh that made Darcke’s face twist with a sneer identical to the one Guner bore.
We were a violent people. Since we were at war so often, we had to be.
The path to becoming a warrior began at the cradle, and ever since my feet first found themselves on a longship’s deck, I’d been broken and bloodied more times than I cared to count.
But I hadn’t been beaten like this before.
There was no wisdom in Guner’s strikes, only the weight of a ship trying to break the waves to its will. I spat blood on the ground, anger racing hotly through me. I wasn’t about to be touched by anyone like this, regardless of his standing with the king.
Guner crouched before me when I opened my mouth. “I heard your father has become quite lenient with his people in his old age—that there is something strange happening at your hearth.” His smirk was colder than the lake behind him. “Perhaps we need to send someone to check on Oenskan?”
My stomach bottomed out, but I didn’t respond—refused to even wipe at the blood dripping down my chin.
“You see,” Guner continued, “some of the karls from your fylki broke during the initial sifting.”
I frowned. What did he mean with initial sifting?
All the karls who joined the Hird received additional training so they would be able to wield axes and bows and even swords, although the blades were only meant for jarls.
They were also evaluated to ensure the chieftains hadn’t lied about their abilities.
That’s what the karls had been doing every day this past week, too—and it was probably one of the only reasons I was alive.
But sifting? I hadn’t heard of this before.
Guner laughed, although there was not even an ember of warmth weaving through it. “Did you not wonder where they were?”
I pressed my hands into the ground at his expression.
His brows jumped. “We have new rules this year. All karls who were sent to join the Hird were evaluated prior to the summer trials, as always. But we had to make the evaluations a bit more exciting for some fylkis. You see, we’ve found that some of our people aren’t as loyal to the king as they should be. ”
It was like being wrapped in a harsh, biting wind. My skin prickled beneath my leathers as my head turned on its own toward the beach where the groups of karls were spread out, all standing with their attention aimed our way.
I hadn’t searched for my people for the same reason I’d kept Viljan at arm’s length.
Had that been another mistake?
Guner chuckled. “You won’t find your people here.
Despite the information they provided us, karls who spoke up—who betrayed their chieftains—cannot be trusted to roam our kingdom.
They received the…” He sucked his teeth.
“Appropriate punishment. So did the ones we interrogated from other chiefdoms.”